


It Keeps Haunting

by breathewords



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can you tell?, FP is a good dad, Fluff, Ignoring the fact that Archie is supposed to be in prison because ridiculous, Nightmares, Quotes lifted from another fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 03:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14967881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: "That night at the Five Seasons is the last time he sleeps well."Jughead's having nightmares. Betty, Archie, and Veronica try to help him out.





	It Keeps Haunting

 

That night at the Five Seasons is the last time he sleeps well.

He thought he’d escaped it all. Escaped Hiram Lodge and Penny Peabody. Escaped the pain of sixty steel-toed boots breaking skin. The pain of a knife slicing down to the bone. Betty seemed to be recovering too, if even just a little bit, so he thought he was in the clear in terms of that particular brand of anguish as well. The pain of seeing the love of his life, the crime-fighting, mystery-solving, ass-kicking Betty Cooper dissolve to tears day after day, left to pick up the pieces of a town forever changed by the crimes of her father. He knows what that’s like.

The first night he sleeps without her and without codeine, he hardly sleeps at all.

When the sun goes down, he starts to feel uneasy, although he can’t exactly place why. Nevertheless, he eats a late dinner of leftovers with his father, who’s been home more often than Jughead ever remembers him being before.

“You’re feeling okay?” FP asks for the millionth time since Jughead’s been released from the hospital.

He promises he’s in perfect health, despite the still-healing cuts on his face and the gouge on his arm that’s still tender and the fire he sometimes feels in his ribs when he breathes too deeply.

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse,” Jughead says.

“Yeah, and you will, too.”

FP also keeps dropping these dark hints about life as a gang leader, wavering in his certainty about passing the dangerous baton to his son so soon.

“I want this, Dad,” Jughead reminds. “You did the right thing.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“No one could have stopped me from going to Penny that night,” he says defiantly.

“I know. And I know you’re smart and brave and selfless, god knows how you ended up that way, but you’ve still got a lot to learn.”

Jughead just nods, teenage cockiness making him resent the comment. They finish dinner in relative silence, and FP doesn’t leave to go to the Wyrm like usual. It’s not his retirement that’s keeping him away, but his renewed vow to keep a closer eye on his son. A vow that everyone in his life seems to have taken. His phone dings almost ironically with a text from Archie.

_What’s up?_

They haven’t texted casually like that in a long time. He lets the message go unanswered.

 _???,_ Archie texts a couple hours later.

_im fine arch. home with my dad. see you tomorrow_

Jughead works on his novel, and when he hits a roadblock, he calls Betty and talks her to sleep. Soon after, he closes his eyes, thinking of her.

_“Imagine what I’ll let them do to that pretty little Northside girlfriend of yours,” Penny leers in his ear as Malachi keeps him on his knees by gripping the back of his t-shirt._

_He wants to kill them, both of them, all of them, for even saying Betty’s name. It doesn’t belong in their mouths. But the air is thick with the scent of his blood and he’s seeing stars and he’s finally close to blacking out, to dying, maybe, so all he manages to do it spit a mouthful of blood at Penny’s feet._

_When he finally goes, he goes out screaming obscenities, trying to block out the sound of Malachi’s vulgar descriptions of what he’ll do to Betty._

_Except this time, he doesn’t go._

_He’s in a room with nothing but a bed. And Betty’s tied to it. No one else is there, no one is touching him, but when he tries to move, he’s brought to his knees by a pain he can’t fight. Enter Malachi, who tears at Betty’s clothes while she writhes on the bed. He crawls toward her, despite feeling like the floor is made of knives, but he’s not fast enough._

He wakes up on the floor, sweating through his shirt and tangled in his sheets, his father banging through the door and throwing on the lights. He rolls to his knees and vomits up dinner.

* * *

The dreams haunt him for weeks. Most feature Betty. Sometimes Toni makes an appearance (Cheryl doesn’t save her in time). Archie shows up occasionally, delivering a kick to his gut as Hiram Lodge goads him on (Or is he the one kicking Archie?). Even Jellybean crops up (He can’t protect her, either). He never could. That’s why his mom took her away. She was right to. At night, he sees what would have happened to her if she had stayed in Riverdale. What would have happened to her because of him.

One night, he dreams that he went to Fox Forest to save her, instead of to sacrifice himself.

_He’s running, and he doesn’t exactly know why, but he knows she’s the end goal. He feels guilt eat away at him, knows her life is in danger because of something he’s done. When he comes to the clearing where Penny once whipped out her knife and took it upon herself to rid him of the tattoo he thought would be permanent, it’s Jellybean on the floor instead of him. Every punch the Ghoulies land on her resonates a thousand times harder on him. Somehow, he ends up by her side in the center of the ring of bikers in Kiss makeup, and when he sees her, curled in the fetal position and bleeding, he screams himself awake._

His father wakes again that night, this time careful not to turn on the lights too quickly, and awkwardly pats his back while he cries in the dark. 

He takes to wandering the Southside at night again, more afraid of his memories of the past than anything that might happen to him in the future. In the morning, he drinks cup after cup of black coffee from the pot in the Blue and Gold office. The days drag on, and the bags under his eyes get darker. 

* * *

Betty’s still missing school more often than not. She claims it’s because her mom isn’t holding up well, which Jughead suspects is true, but he also knows she can’t stand the looks she gets in the hallway nowadays. Some fearful, some accusatory, some pitying, none good. 

She hates the way teachers say her name now, _yes,_ _Betty, very good,_ like getting the answer to a simple geometry question correct is an incredible feat of strength. Maybe it is. She mostly goes to school because Jughead is there, and spends the moments they’re not together twitchy and jumpy and half afraid he never really did wake up in the hospital, that he really did die and she’s been hallucinating ever since. She has to touch him to remind herself that he’s alive, and she is, too.

She starts digging her nails deeper into her palms, more desperate than ever to feel something, anything, other than the emotions that threaten to drown her. She starts seeing the school counselor, mostly at Veronica’s insistence, after the brunette finds her crouched by her locker halfway through second period, trapped with her elbows braced against her knees in a panic attack. It doesn’t help. Her mother forks out the cash for her to see a better, fancier psychiatrist, who prescribes anxiety meds she doesn’t take.

The days drag on, and maybe, just maybe, she thinks time might be healing her wounds. She starts to come out of the daze she’s been in since she her father made her recite the list of his murder victims, since she saw her boyfriend lifeless in his father’s arms. She cries less. She notices more. Jughead recovered faster than she could have hoped, physically at least. He’s still got a couple of scrapes on his face, and his bicep will be scarred forever, but he seemed not to have accumulated any emotional scar tissue, at least at first. As Betty comes back to herself, she realizes that might not be true. She knows the signs of a sleepless night. She suspects at this point, coffee is running through Jughead’s veins, even though he still yawns incessantly in class.

“You’re not sleeping,” she tells him one day, fingers laced with his as they stretch out on the couch in the Blue and Gold office during her free period. He’s skipping class to be with her. His teacher won’t reprimand him for it, she knows. Things are different now. Everyone walks on eggshells around them. She wonders if they’ll ever stop. She can’t tell if it’s because he was in the hospital or because her father is a serial killer or because they’re both high-ranking gang members now.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, sitting up.

She just raises her eyebrows at him, his outburst proving her point.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just sick of everyone keeping an eye on me all of a sudden. I’m used to doing things on my own.”

“Archie and I are worried,” she tells him.

“Why?”

He doesn’t want to hear her answer.

“You know why.”

“Betty…”

“Tell me you thought twice before you called Hiram. Tell me you didn’t believe he’d want you dead. Tell me you didn’t call me to say goodbye. Tell me you thought you’d walk out of that forest alive.”

“It’s not like that. I didn’t _want_ to do it. I just didn’t have any other choice.”

“You did. You made a choice. That’s what scares me, Jug.”

“I don’t want to die,” he says bluntly.

“Me neither. But sometimes I think about what it would be like to go to sleep and never wake up.”

“Okay, so we’re both working through some stuff. But I would never try to leave you.”

“But you _did_ try,” she says, tears welling.

He can’t explain himself. Can’t make anyone see that he didn’t see that night as a suicide mission. That he didn’t want it to come to that. That he thought he was saving lives. That he felt a responsibility to the Serpents, because they felt it toward him. But the fact of the matter is he put her through hell when she was already there, and the guilt he feels at that is enough to tell him he was wrong.

“You’re right,” he tells her. “I fucked up. I should have figured out something else, but I was stupid and impulsive and I made a mistake and I regret it. So I’m not going to do it again.”

“Do you believe me?” he asks when she doesn’t reply.

She nods and leans her head on his shoulder.

* * *

 

That night, after Alice is settled on the couch with a glass of white wine, Betty slips out the front door and meets Archie in his car.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says.

“No worries. I’ve been meaning to go see him anyway.”

When they pull up, Southside Trailer Park looks different than it usually does. Sure, the place never exactly gave off inviting vibes, but now, with half of the trailers scorched and smoldering, it looks like something out of a horror movie.

“Damn,” Archie says as they walk to Jughead’s door.

“You still have the Serpents staying at your place?” she asks, newly invested in their well-being.

“A few. Cheryl took in Toni and her crew now that her mom can’t tell her not to. Most have also found friends or family by now, but some are still working it out. My dad and I don’t mind, though.”

Betty nods as Archie knocks.

Jughead’s halfway into pulling his beanie on when he opens the door, but tosses it aside when he sees Archie and Betty.

“Got any ice cream?” Archie asks, already making his way toward the freezer.

“Where’s your dad?” Betty asks after kissing him hello.

“Helping one of his guys move into a new place.”

“Want some company?”

“If I said no, would you leave?”

“No,” Archie says, mouth full of mint chip ice cream he’s already eating straight from the carton.

Jughead rolls his eyes, and Betty forces them to watch Moana with her until Archie’s curfew. Betty declines his offer of a ride home.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna make me watch another Disney movie,” Jughead says with a grin.

“You love Disney,” she says, pulling off her sweater in exchange for one of his t-shirts.

“Shh, someone might hear you!”

“Yes, and then your bad boy reputation will be ruined, and I’ll have to stop dating you.”

He kisses the smirk off her face, and before long, she has him forgetting all about his futile battle with sleep.

_Someone’s pinning him to the ground. He’s blindfolded, so he can’t see who it is, but he knows he can’t stand up. There’s a pressure on his chest and his waist. Tape, he thinks. He’s taped to something. But then it increases. More like ropes. Like wood planks. Like logs. Like bricks. Like concrete. He throws it off and wakes up panting for breath._

He’s gasping, and for a minute, all he can focus on his making sure he’s getting air in his lungs. He sits with his head between his knees and takes deep breaths through his nose. His chest feels sore and every breath is accompanied by a wheeze. The room spins, and he’s afraid he might throw up again. He really doesn’t want Betty to see that, despite how close they are. _Betty._ She’s standing from the floor, wincing as she rubs at her elbow, blinking down at him in confusion. He puts two and two together and realizes she must have draped herself over him like she usually does in her sleep, triggering the nightmare, which had him unceremoniously tossing his girlfriend to the floor. He feels like someone pulled the bed out from under him. He hurt her. He shouldn’t have let himself fall asleep.

“I’ll get you some ice,” he says, and bolts from the room.

In the kitchen, he dumps the contents of an ice tray into a plastic bag and wraps it in a paper towel. He’s downing a Red Bull when she wraps her arms around him from behind and he drops it, spinning around and stopping himself with his fist pulled back by his chin.

“I’m sorry!” she says. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“God, Betts,” he says, running a hand through is unruly hair. This has officially gone too far.

“What’s going on, Juggy?”

“I’m having nightmares,” he admits, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“How long?”

“Just a few weeks. Ever since I stopped taking the painkillers. I guess they were making it easier to sleep.”

“You didn’t say…”

“I’m handling it,” he says, reaching for a dish towel to wipe up the floor.

“How?”

“You can’t fix this, Betty.”

“I can damn well try. Come back to bed.”

“Betty…”

“Come.”

Back in his room, she climbs into bed and holds the blanket up for him to join.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What are you going to do? Not sleep ever again?”

“I’m considering it… I hurt you, Betts.”

“You didn’t. I don’t bruise that easily… unlike someone,” she teases, tugging playfully at his shirt to reveal still-healing bruises.

She runs her hands up and down his abdomen, trails feather-light kisses along his neck, weaves her fingers through his hair. It’s soothing, but he still fights sleep.

“Can I hold you?” she asks.

When he nods, she wraps her arms high around his waist and rests her head on his chest. She falls asleep, and he stares at the ceiling until the sun rises.

* * *

Jughead’s nodding off in a booth at Pop’s when Veronica slides in across from him.

“Jughead, no offense, but you look like the before photo in an ad for concealer. Those bags under your eyes are definitely not Prada.”

“As much as I appreciate the commentary, Veronica, we’re here to talk business.”

Not one to be unprofessional, Veronica launches them into a discussion of her plans for the speakeasy. They’ve been trying to come up with a way to buy another property as well, before her father officially cuts her off, because the Serpents lost nearly all of their territory after riot night. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spend half of his waking hours brainstorming ways for them to peacefully invade new stomping grounds.

“Jughead.”

Veronica snaps her fingers in front of his face, demanding his attention.

“Oh, you’re still here?”

“Yes, but you weren’t. Boy, you need a nap.”

“This reeks of Archie and Betty’s meddling.”

“They might have asked me to broach the subject, but strange as though it may seem, I care about you, too. We’re friends.”

“We’re business partners … who are dating each other’s best friends.”

“Okay, rude.”

“My sleeping habits are none of your business, Veronica.”

“Okay. But if you want something stronger than melatonin, I can always raid my mom’s medicine cabinet.”

* * *

Archie redoubles his efforts after he catches Jughead falling asleep in English class. He remembers the sleepless nights he spent staring at his front door when the Black Hood first started killing. And since he knows there’s no one who could have convinced him to do otherwise, he figures Jughead can at least use some company while he tries to tire himself to death. Archie’s a night owl anyway.

He’s coming home from a run one night when he sees Jughead climbing out of Betty’s window.

“Jug!” He calls, jogging over.

Jughead jumps from the ladder and meets Archie at the end of Betty’s driveway.

“What’s up?”

“I was just about to order a pizza. Wanna join?”

Jughead laughs at Archie’s strange late night routine, but agrees. He’s never one to turn down food. 

So they eat pizza and play FIFA, and it’s after midnight when Jughead announces he’s heading home.

“Just crash here, bro,” Archie insists.

“Archie,” Jughead warns.

“Maybe sleeping somewhere else will help!”

Jughead feels his face flame. He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Archie.

“Betty told you?”

“She didn’t need to. You look _tired_ , Jug, and you fell asleep English class yesterday. You love English!”

“It’s just… not gonna help, Archie. I appreciate the offer, but I already told Betty, this is just the way it’s gonna be now.”

“Okay, well we don’t have to sleep. We can drink Red Bull and play video games, if that’s what you wanna do.”

Jughead relents, and Archie insists on blowing up the air mattress anyway. The fall into a routine together. When Jughead leaves Betty’s, still too afraid to fall asleep next to her, he meets up with Archie, and they go to Pop’s, or play video games, or work on fixing up the treehouse before a couple of restless hours of sleep. Jughead is grateful for everything Archie is doing for him, and because he can’t put it into words, he agrees to go jogging with Archie one night. And then another. On the third night of his newfound workout routine, he falls asleep as soon as he hits the air mattress.

* * *

He starts sleeping at home again, but still goes night jogging with Archie. He doesn’t fall asleep in class anymore, but the bags under his eyes persist. He doesn’t wake up screaming, but he still has nightmares. He lets Betty fall asleep in his arms, but he still sneaks out before fatigue pulls him under too. Until one night, he doesn’t.

The air is getting warm and her block is peacefully quite and her duvet smells so good and she’s so wrapped up in him that he doubts he can move without waking her. So he just lets himself fall asleep. When he dreams, this time, it’s all too real.

_It starts out the same as always. With him walking into that god forsaken forest, every nerve on fire. Except this time, he doesn’t see Penny. He sees his mom and dad fighting. He sees glass breaking on the floor of the trailer. He sees Jellybean crying when he was a little too good at hide and seek. He sees his mom taking her and leaving for good. He sees Archie telling him Betty doesn’t want him anymore. He sees himself throw her hands off his face in the parking lot outside the Whyte Wyrm, leaving her alone and in tears._

_“You don’t even need my help. You turn everything to shit on your own.”_

_He spins around, but sees no one. Still, he recognizes the voice as Penny’s. He’s about to walk away, leave the forest for what's hopefully the last time, when the ground dissolves beneath him and suddenly, he’s lying in a hole in the earth._

_His mom and dad appear above him first. He reaches up, looking for them to pull him to his feet. Instead, they each dump a shovel-full of dirt onto his face. He chokes, desperately wiping it from his eyes and mouth. When he can see again, Jellybean scoops more onto him. And Archie. And Betty. And everyone he loves is burying him alive._

He wakes himself up coughing, tears streaming down his face of their own accord as he tries to catch his breath and convince himself he’s not being buried alive. After a minute of shaking, he realizes Betty’s straddling his lap. He sits up and pulls her close, his faced tucked against her chest as he breathes her in.

“I wish I could help you,” she whispers.

He’s so silent and so still and she can’t stand it, so she kisses him to bring him back to her. He comes alive under her touch. And she gets an idea. An idea that has her grinding her hips into his as she takes off her shirt. An idea that has her confidently tugging at the fabric of his boxers, even though she’s not wearing the black wig and bra. Or any bra, for that matter. She’s determined not to come too quick, to out last him, to fuck him for so long that it tires him out so thoroughly he won’t ever wake up from a nightmare again. She does, and when she finally climbs off his lap, her thighs are burning, but she thinks he might be close to falling back to sleep. She counts sheep as he pulls her close, and matches her breathing to his as it evens out.

“I love you,” he whispers long after she thought he was asleep.

“Love you too,” she mumbles back.

“You’re awake?” He asks.

She pauses for a long time before saying, “I have nightmares too, you know.”

He follow suit, using the silence in hopes that she'll say more. When she doesn't he broaches the topic himself.

“Betts, how come I never know when you’re having a nightmare?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I cry or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror,” she says.

“You should wake me,” he says thinking about how he’s interrupted her sleep before. About what she just did to calm him down.

“It’s not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you,” she says. “I’m okay once I realize you’re here.”

“Really?” He asks, still consistently floored by how thoroughly she loves him. By how he got so lucky with her, when his whole life has been nothing but a series of bad luck.

“Yeah.”

He pulls her closer and makes a promise that he never breaks.

“You’ll never lose me, Betts.”

“I know.”

After that, they both sleep through the night uninterrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> I was really just looking for an excuse to write that Hunger Games quote in a Riverdale fic. Also, I am incapable of writing anything besides angst. Title lifted from the song Collider by X Ambassadors, which was in the season finale. As always, thanks for reading! Every time I get kudos or comments, it makes my day :)


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